Troop Morale
by Olivia von Dread
Summary: Written for the Fallout Kink Meme. The Courier has come a long way to work her way into the ranks of the Legion. So what's a good way to express her gratitude? Well, it probably starts with cookies. Maybe eventual F!Courier/Vulpes ON HIATUS
1. Troop Morale

She gave a stern nod to the men manning the drawbridge. They let her in without questioning the pull-cart full of boxes—there was a certain level of respect they had gained for her, and it wasn't unexpected, since they were only recruits.

The walk to Caesar's tent was short and made in purposeful strides. She said hello to a few of the men passing by, barked at a couple of slaves to move faster and did her best to look as unapproachable as possible. It was a pride thing; she worked with men and men alone, as the Legion had no place in its ranks for women. Not until _her_, at least. She'd make it easier for them to not know the difference.

Entering the tent was a normal thing for her. She left the cart outside, taking three specific boxes with her, each one tied with different colored ribbon: red, black and yellow. She stood tall in front of the man who made her proud to be herself, boxes held by the ribbons in the fingers of her left hand. Her trademark scowl never left her face.

"Hello again." She greeted, never losing any of her cool. The Praetorians merely bid her ave and Caesar himself looked at her with that gleam in his eyes he got when he always saw her—the look you get after finding a diamond beneath a pile of shit.

"Is there something you needed, Valence?" He asked her, and she frowned deeper. By now the man must have known it was in her nature to do such all the time. She first met him with a frown, she operated on him with a frown and even upon hearing the best of news it would only turn into a neutral expression.

"Yes. These are for you all." She handed the box with the red ribbon to the man on the throne, singled out Lucius for the slightly smaller box with the black ribbon and handed one of the other Praetorians the yellow-ribboned box. "Enjoy them as you would enjoy the sight of a town of profligates being burned to the ground." She stepped back to admire her work with a frown on her face.

Caesar was the first to open his box, and he raised an eyebrow at the contents. He gave a dry laugh. "And what exactly is this supposed to be, Valence?"

"It is a tribute to my work team, Lord Caesar. I'm expressing my appreciation in a different way than usual, but do not take it as a sign of feminine weakness—consider my exceptional baking abilities to be a statement proclaiming my war against any current unhappiness that may plague any man of this army. You may also see it as an effort to feed you all to the best of my ability. A well fed soldier makes for a quicker kill. Eat them at your discretion, of course. I've distributed several boxes to the other camps in the Mojave area. Aurelius of Phoenix deemed them edible."

Before she could give Caesar the written note from the Centurion confirming that her baked goods were alright to eat he had already taken a couple of bites. His eyebrows shot up in faint surprise before he smiled at her, finishing the rest of the cookie. "This is good, Valence. You'd make a good woman."

"No. I would not."

"I honestly expected," he ignored her, taking a bite out of another cookie. "that these boxes would contain the heads of high ranked NCR staff. But this is just as good, I suppose."

Lucius shrugged, biting into one of his own cookies, as the other Praetorians were doing with their box. "It would raise troop morale."

She nodded, never losing the frown. "Do I have permission to distribute these to the rest of the camp?"

Caesar waved her away, smirking, enjoying his cookies, _just as she had planned him to_. "Yes, of course. Just don't cause an uproar over it. The day hasn't yet ended, and I intend for my men to work towards reward, not simply achieve it."

She grunted in confirmation and turned to leave the tent but stopped short. She turned halfway, managing to pull her expression into what was seen as a terrifying smirk. "Oh, and please, have someone inform the Legate that I'll be meeting him in about a week to discuss plans for Hoover Dam with him over tea—_and_ cookies."

As she left, Lucius leaned over to Caesar. "I don't think that was meant to be threatening at all."

Caesar shook his head. "No, it wasn't. The only woman I've ever let into our ranks and she never ceases to amaze."

* * *

She placed a box at the head of each tent, enough to feed the legionaires that would come back to them later. A box to Antony, because he was excellent at his job, one for Silus since he was currently back at the camp and she liked him well enough. Box upon box given to every soldier, every man of rank, even the young children who were training to one day be excellent soldiers. At the end of her run she settled herself down in her own tent, at the far end of the camp and waited, one box undelivered.

Eventually there were sounds of surprise that came from the tents around her, and she could only grimace (in pleasure, mind you) at the efforts of her hard work. She took the last box, tied with a violet ribbon and set it next to her head as she reclined. The red of the tent consumed her, and she sighed, rubbing a hand over weary eyes.

It had been a difficult four months for her, but she had rolled with the punches to be where she was at the moment. She didn't treat becoming the first female legionaire as a joke—much effort, much change was needed. She shaved her hair straight off the day after she received the Mark, trimming it until it was only a half a centimeter high from the top of her head. Her face was already rather rough, so she looked enough like a male to fit in. More like a teenaged boy than anything else, but it would have to do until she grew much older and her cheeks began to sink in. She'd give it ten years.

She hadn't had her own set of armor back then, but she had made sure to dress in red and black, and most importantly, come bearing the gift of the desecrated head of one Robert Edwin House on the sharp end of a spear. Caesar was so impressed with the gesture that he had it set up outside of his tent for a week.

She had told him quite frankly of her opinion after destroying the robots in the substation for him. She informed him that she wished to be a part of his ranks, her willingness to go through each individual rung of the ladder to climb her way up to becoming a respected member and invaluable asset to him. She even told him of her resolve to live the Legion life, as opposed to remaining untouched by the wastes in her suite at the Lucky 38. To eat when she was allowed, sleep only when necessary and live inside of a tent that was even smaller than her bathroom back on the Strip. Caesar, needless to say, took her up on the offer, but instead of having her run headfirst into battle he had her accomplish the more delicate tasks that needed to be done.

She supposed the trust had made itself absolutely clear after his operation. She had an incredible knowledge in medicine, something that suited her just fine, and Caesar too, now that he was well again. Time progressed and the tasks got harder and harder, her coworkers constantly upping the stakes, but eventually it turned into a pleasant calm, knowing that she had done well. She took the short opportunity to express her appreciation to every member of the legion by crafting the most delicious baked goods she could manage.

And outside, they all thanked her with comments on how good they were. Eventually they would find out it was her. But for now she was content to revel in a job well done.

"_What_ is this madness I'm hearing about cookies in the camp?" She didn't move, only frowned deeper as the owner of the last box of cookies stepped into their shared tent.

"Ave, Vulpes. These are for you." She slid him the box with her hand, continuing to look up to the top of her tent. She could hear the rustling of the thin cardboard and a sigh. She finally sat up, across from Vulpes Inculta, her mentor, her confidante.

The man who had inspired her to become a part of the Legion was staring at the cookies, a perfectly groomed eyebrow raised. "Why did you bake cookies for the entirety of the camp, Valence?"

"I've told Lord Caesar that I'm proclaiming my war on—" He held up a hand to silence her.

"No. Wait. Why did I even ask?" He smirked, lifting a cookie. "Trust _you_ to bake cookies in a thinly veiled attempt to make us _happy_. Thank you."

She felt her lips tug upwards until she was giving him the perfect poker face. She shrugged while he ate the first cookie. "If it makes you feel any better, after I was finished making them I cooked the ashes of a powder ganger into a loaf of bread and gave it to some profligate whore who tried to sell me her body."

Vulpes managed a small smile. "Yes, it does make them taste even better."

She laughed, although her face was mirthless.

She sat and watched him eat through five cookies, no doubt in her mind that he was hungry from a long day of dealing with delicate information. Espionage was sure to give a man a hunger that could only be quelled with delicious baked goods.

"Have you even _had_ any of these?" He asked her around a bite. She shook her head.

"Only one. I had to make sure that I could make enough for every Legionaire in the Mojave to have at least five. I prepared 90 for you, Lucius and Caesar alone. "

His eyes widened marginally, something quite unlike him, before he rolled his eyes and pushed the cookies forward, directly between the two.

She looked at the box, then back to him, almost as if she didn't understand. Finally, she put a tentative hand in the box to bring a cookie to her mouth. She ate it politely. "Thank you." She mumbled over a mouthful. He grunted in reply.

They finished the entire box between the two of them before they readied themselves for bed. This was her most valued time, whenever he was back in the camp. The time where they could talk without worry of anything but themselves.

"Of course, I never told you this. No one ever did." A statement meaning that he was about to share with her information not intended for her ears.

"Of course not."

"When I went to report my findings to Caesar I saw him contentedly feasting on your gift. Before I left he spoke openly to Lucius about the promotion to Centurion that you'll be receiving within the next two weeks, granted you're on your _best_ behavior."

She almost thought she smiled. "Excellent. One step closer to Legate then, I suppose."

Vulpes snorted. "Yes, I suppose I would rather it be you than Lanius. If Caesar's unfortunate demise were to come about, I'd advise that if you haven't already acquired that position, that you take it away from him quickly. There's no doubt in my mind that you'd be able to do it. And you'd make such an excellent leader," Here, his voice took on a sarcastic tone. "you bake _cookies_."

Valence could feel the corners of her lips tugging further and further up her face. "Yes. But only to raise troop morale, of course."

Vulpes gave a dry laugh and turned to the other side. "Goodnight, Valence."

"Goodnight, Vulpes."

In the morning when Vulpes awoke, before her and many of the other Legionaries were to rise, he swore he could see her lips turned upwards.


	2. That Lucky West Wind

AN: So, this is going to be a very slow-going project for me, but I'll eventually see it through. It wont update regularly, because I'm not so good at that, but it'll be finished, sooner or later. Please review, they're super helpful and generally nice to get! Enjoy! :D

* * *

"Must I _honestly_ put this on?"

"Yes, it's very important that you do."

"I only got my veteran armor two weeks ago. It's much too early to wear anything else."

Vulpes Inculta rolled his eyes, already fastening the buttons of the NCR uniform. "Valence, you aren't giving me anything good to report back with."

The woman sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. I'll do it. But only because it's for the good of the Legion. And my promotion." She was able to shed her armor quickly enough and place it into the burlap knapsack that held her possessions, but she had trouble fastening everything together when it came to the NCR uniform.

They stood only a half an hour away from Camp McCarran, disguised as the very dissolutes who were trying to kill them. For Vulpes it seemed to be an everyday thing. Valence, however, had never even considered taking up a position with the Frumentarii, and was thoroughly disgusted with the idea of even touching enemy armor for anything other than scavenging.

Their mission was relatively simple. Invade Camp McCarran as NCR members and find weaknesses in the guard shifts that could be exploited for a raid. It seemed at first to be a job that Picus could easily handle, but the man was confined to duties meant for captains, and that left him inside, dealing with the ongoing problem with the monorail.

She knew that no one inside of the building would recognize her since she had disguised herself well enough as a woman on her last visit, but the lingering worry remained that they just might see through her performance. She wasn't very sneaky or as good at this as Vulpes—it wasn't her job. She was a fighter, and beyond that, a doctor, nothing more.

There were two NCR members being shipped into McCarran that they had ambushed along the way. The uniforms fit them well enough and the bodies were easily hid. They'd have to return for their armor later, when their mission was completed. It wouldn't take anything more than two days, Vulpes had told her. "Alright. Shall we proceed?"

She nodded an affirmative, and they began the walk.

* * *

She was never certain how the art of espionage was performed, and even at this moment it made little sense to her. They were just as confined to the inside as Picus was, being told to patrol the upper level. It was boring and tedious and required taking orders from men who were most definitely _not_ her superiors. Near the end of their rounds she was considering asking Vulpes to shoot her in the foot just to give her something to actually _think_ about, but before she could even mumble the words to him one of the higher ups approached them.

It was a woman, mid-length chocolate brown hair falling to her shoulders. She could have been pretty, if not for the uniform she wore. "Hey, you two over there!"

Vulpes had made it blatantly clear that she shouldn't speak unless spoken to and that she should mirror everything he did. So when he saluted the woman, she resigned herself to do the same. At least one thing could never be taken away from her in this horrid disguise—she could keep her frown for as long as she wanted, nobody would question. The wastes were a bitch, after all.

"How can we help you, Lieutenant?" Vulpes kept conversation quick and to the point, most likely for her sake. The Lieutenant, Carling, she told them to call her, was sizing them both up, a smirk on her pretty pink lips.

"You boys at the end of your shift? How about you come back with me for a little bit? I haven't had a break since the monorail got blown up, and you two look like the answer to my prayers. I haven't seen a fresh face in months, let me tell you." Valence couldn't control the look of disgust that plastered itself on her face. Vulpes was a better actor than she was.

"No thank you, Lieutenant. I'm afraid we'll have to pass you up on the offer." He clapped a hand roughly on Valence's back, apparently some sort of friendly military gesture. She wasn't a fan of it, seeing as how it had surprised her enough to nearly trigger her own combat instincts. Fortunately for everyone the only weapon she had on hand was a service rifle.

Lieutenant Carling frowned, rolling her eyes at the two of them. "What are you two, fuck buddies or something? Gay like those Legion bastards?"

Valence took pride in the fact that she was able to turn her quickly overburdening anger into a completely neutral face, something she didn't know she was capable of. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious she was reminded of Vulpes' whispered information of her promotion, and the warning that she be on her best behavior.

Vulpes only laughed at her crude comment, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that. I've got a girl back home, and he's married with a child on the way." The excuse was a good one, something she wouldn't have thought up herself in her rage. Carling looked at least… _vaguely_ understanding of the necessities of being faithful to ones partner. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Huh, go figure. The first attractive males to get sent here in nearly forever and they're both taken. Looks like I'll be going back to sneaking glances at Colonel Hsu then… What are your names, privates?"

"Riese."

"Spatz."

Carling grinned at Valence, placing a hand on her hip. "You look a lot like a man I used to know, Spatz. He spent a lot of time frowning too, wasn't very approachable either. He worked in 1st Recon until about a year ago, moved away to some nowhere town with his spotter and his wife. Wonder how he's doing now."

Valence wanted desperately to tell her exactly how badly Craig Boone was doing, but it wasn't the time for that. Instead, she grunted, frowning again.

They saluted the woman when she bid them good day and made their way out to a starlit sky to keep an eye on the area. She hadn't done much talking to the other NCR members and hadn't bothered with anything that wasn't her business on her last visit to destroy the monorail. Vulpes brought this up with her and gave her short instructions. "Keep an eye on what's going on in the camp. I'm going to patrol the perimeter." She nodded silently, giving him the affirmative that she would be alright on her own.

She could hear snippets of conversation from what she decided were the barracks. She took a turn and stepped into the tent. She made sure to keep herself on the objective of finding a bunk to sleep in. She took the lower one, closer to the level of conversation and listened in quietly.

"—Hsu to stop sending us out to deal with the Fiends. They should be sending rangers for that, they're better off at closer distances. We're 1st Recon, we need to keep back or we're entirely compromised. And look what happened to Betsy—she really needs to go get some help." The two men that were talking had their back to her anyway, so she watched them as they spoke.

"Well regardless of what we want we're going to go out tomorrow afternoon. It's much too late to bring up the issue with him. Let's just hope that we can finally take them all down."

There was a problem with Fiends here, it seemed. Tomorrow afternoon two members of 1st Recon would go away to deal with this issue. This would be a good opportunity to strike. She'd let Vulpes know when he got back, since he was the one reporting findings to the Centurion that was to lead the raiding party.

The 1st Recon snipers continued to chatter away quietly, mostly speaking about the Betsy woman. She loathed to be confined to one spot for too long with no purpose, but she was getting tired. She finally let her eyes close, drifting off. She found herself dreaming of red armor, strong men, enemy soldiers and tortured women.

* * *

In the morning it was Vulpes who shook her awake. They were the only two in the tent she assumed, because he began talking about their mission, quietly, but still openly, something he would never do if he thought they were being watched. "Two breaks in shift, at 12 AM and PM. Furthermore, the youngest guard drinks on the job."

She let a laugh fall through frowning lips. "I knew there was a good reason Caesar didn't allow such things in his camp. The NCR is growing too bold here. These men should know that the group is only as strong as their weakest link."

"Do you have anything of interest to share?" He asked, and she nodded, sliding herself off of the bed.

"1st Recon inhabits this camp. However, this afternoon, two of them will be leaving to take care of a problem with some Fiends. The perfect opportunity to be exploited, since the less of them around the better."

Vulpes seemed to think about this for a moment. "It would be best to get moving then. We'll depart in two hours, during the next shift change."

"Alright. Let's move then."

Two hours passed by slowly for her. At least she was able to get herself a Nuka Cola from the cafeteria, a drink she found herself craving frequently after her memory loss due to being shot in the head. During their shift she thought a lot about the woman in 1st Recon. "Have you ever heard of a woman here? One in the sniper unit, I mean?"

Vulpes looked at her, the sunglasses he was wearing today blocking her from seeing his eyes. "Corporal Betsy Addeline. What of her?"

She was a little surprised that he immediately knew who she was talking about, but it was his job to keep tabs on people. She took a sip of her soda. "What do you know about her?

She noticed the way his brow arched at the question. "Standard NCR scum. She was placed in charge of eliminating a pack of fiends about a month ago, but there were no results. Some say she came back… different." Vulpes had a way with words, she thought. She grunted in response, going back to looking over the edge of the railing.

Eventually the time came to leave and they managed to slip out of the camp undetected. They collected their armor on the way to meeting the raiding party, something Valence was eternally grateful for, but Vulpes kept moving along in those hideous fatigues. When they met up with the legionaries she took a quick look around for a Centurion, a Decanus even, but could only pinpoint a couple of veterans as the highest ranking members of the squad. She looked to Vulpes, who was inspecting the group as she had been a moment ago. "You'll be leading them in then? I don't see anyone else."

Vulpes smirked at her, pointed canines peeking from under his lips. "No. You will. Good luck." She scowled when he began walking away.

"Vulpes!"

"Until we meet again, Valence. Vale." And he disappeared into the wastes.

Valence growled, turning to face the men she had been assigned to. She wasn't prepared for this in the slightest, but she'd have to make due. She counted 10 veterans excluding herself, 11 primes, 18 recruits, and, much to her surprise, a man she knew to be an assassin was there as well. They usually worked in their own units, but she would be able to make use of this. She was leading a group of 40 men—a job made for 4 or 5 Decanii had been placed in her hands. The ultimate test of leadership to become a Centurion, she supposed, or as close to a test as Caesar could get at the moment. Camp McCarran was important to the NCR, and burning it to the ground was an important task, one that she would not and could not fail. He had much faith in her it seemed. She never disappointed.

"We will strike at 7, sharp. Quick kills, and leave a couple to crucify. There's a man in there who's acting on behalf of Lord Caesar, so he is to remain untouched as well, I trust that you'll know him when you see him." She gave them all a stern look, and then turned to the assassin. "You. What are you doing here?"

The man was respectful enough. "Lord Caesar told me to come here as well."

Valence nodded. "Hm. Alright then. You have a special job. Colonel Hsu is to be eliminated, his body brought to me upon completion of this task. I dislike failure. You're well trained, so I won't lecture you on layouts or battle technique. You should all know how to do your job by now…" There was one more thing to attend to. She pointed at one of the veterans, curling her finger in a silent request to come closer. The man walked up to her, nodding. "Yes?"

He was slightly taller than her, about the same height as Vulpes. Lean but muscled, looked to have a strong back. He had a hunting rifle and his machete for close combat. He would do nicely.

"What is your name?" She thought she could see him rolling his eyes under the goggles he wore, but he replied quickly enough.

"Laelius."

"You are to lead a group of 10 to the tents. There are 1st Reconnaissance members there. Take them all out." She thought for a moment, and then corrected herself. "Leave the woman. I would like to see her with my own eyes. The rest of you," here she spoke to the group again. "Are to focus on the building. There are many NCR inside there. Take the majority out." She checked her pip-boy for the time.

"Let's begin traveling, shall we?"

* * *

Valence wiped the blood from her goggles as she gutted another trooper. Gunshots rang loud in her ears. She almost wished she had her zap glove with her, but she had left it at the camp in favor of the thermic lance she twirled in her fingertips. A few screams came from the cafeteria and she scowled pleasantly.

Music to her ears.

Something about ending the lives of dissolutes was amazing to her. The way they would eventually be reduced to pleading for their lives was disgusting, and knowing that she could finish them off so easily was empowering. Her men inside the building had everything under control, even though they were outnumbered. A couple of the recruits had been shot down, but by the time she started sending the veterans in she could see progress in their combat position. They were winning.

She went back outside to check on the rest of the men. The recruits had done well in keeping the soldiers outside at bay, and she saw a 1st Recon beret on the ground, besides the body of some scrawny looking boychild. She scooped it up and entered a particularly noisy tent.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd ever show up. The woman is here." Laelius nodded to her; judging by the blooming bruises on her face it seemed she had received quite a beating from the men in the tent. Valence approached the woman, who was glaring up at her, still prideful despite her situation.

She removed the goggles from her eyes to get a better look. A feminine face, but only if you knew what to look for. Hair as short as hers, and if the Corporal stood she would be much taller than Valence could ever hope to be. A woman serving in an army of mostly men; surrounded by the men in her unit.

She scowled, although no one could see it because of the bandana around her face. "You are an interesting woman." She stated simply, looking down into dark blue eyes.

Betsy didn't have anything to say to her, it seemed. She spat at Valence's feet, not saying a word.

Valence snorted. "It's your lucky day, Corporal. I'm going to let you out of here alive. You should thank your teammates—they spoke highly of you. So I'd suggest you leave. Now." She leaned down, their noses almost touching through fabric. "Go, Corporal Betsy. Go and get help, and reconsider your position in this army. It's difficult to get by as a woman, wouldn't you agree?"

Betsy's eyes narrowed, then grew wide. "_You're_… you're a _woman_." She whispered, so quiet that she was sure no one else had heard.

"Go."

She stood back and moved away as Corporal Betsy Addeline tore out of the tent. She must have knocked into one of the other legionaries as she left because she heard a grumbled _profligate whore_ from outside of the tent. She looked to see who had arrived; it was the assassin, with the body of Colonel James Hsu in his arms. It was dumped unceremoniously to the floor.

"Just in time. May I?" She extended a hand to Laelius for his machete and it was handed over without complaint. She went right to work, cutting the man's head off of his neck, muscles and blood painting the dirt a deep red. It had been a fine day, she thought.

This camp was hers.

* * *

After sending the recruits around to look for any useful equipment to recover she had ordered the bodies to be piled outside to burn, and the remaining captives to be crucified around the flames. Picus was long gone, Betsy as well, she assumed. She let Laelius hang the flag of the Legion outside of the gates, and she placed the severed head of Colonel Hsu on the other side, impaled through a spear. A message for the 1st Recon members that were sure to come back eventually.

It took the rest of the evening to get back to the Fort with such a large group of people, and by the time they arrived she was in the mood to do nothing but sleep. But of course, Caesar had her summoned into his tent.

They spoke for ten minutes, and he commented on her actions and commended her efforts. The quiet congratulations and the pat on the shoulder she received from Lucius made her happy she hadn't gone to bed so soon.

She entered the tent Valence, veteran legionaire and emerged from it Faustus Zephyrus, Centurion.

* * *

"So how did it go?" Vulpes greeted her in the new tent she was given, this one even farther in the camp, at the edge, close to the camp of the Legate.

"Oh shut up, I already know you were watching me the whole time." She scowled, putting her bag next to the bed, the _actual bed_ that she would be sleeping in. Vulpes was in another one, only a few feet from hers.

"I meant with Caesar, Valence."

She grimaced, an attempt on her part at a smile. "I've done it. I've made it to Centurion." He definitely knew this already since he was in her new tent, but she told him anyway. She showed him the helmet Caesar had given to her, and he nodded in approval.

"Put it on then." She did as he told and frowned at him.

"Well? How do I look?"

Vulpes snorted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look respectable."

Valence looked at him quietly, before replying. "And you look like an idiot. Take those off." She pointed to the NCR uniform he was still wearing.

Surprisingly enough, he listened, only requesting that she tell him of her conversation with Caesar. They readied themselves for bed, the only light coming from an oil lamp on a small table between them. "Caesar has made me one of the Centurions of this very camp. It's large enough, and with the new recruits I should have much to look over. Although a part of me suspects that he wants to keep me close for my medical knowledge as well."

"An understandable choice."

"Yes. He said I would be assigned my Decanii tomorrow, but for tonight I could sleep on the fact that I am now Faustus Zephyrus, Centurion of Caesar's Legion."

Vulpes made an appreciative noise at the name. "You do speak fluent Latin, correct?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you know the meaning of your name. It fits you."

Valence rolled her eyes, turning to the other side. "Yes, of course. Goodnight, Vulpes."

"Goodnight, Valence."

The light was extinguished.


	3. The Deep Side of the Lake

AN: Hi guys! Thanks for the reviews and messages! They make me super duper happy and the writing process usually goes along faster with them since I get all inspired and stuff! :D This is chapter three; not as funny, but this story needs to have a plot, right? Please, send me a message or review; it doesn't take so long, just click a button and type some encouraging words. I'd really appreciate it!

* * *

Baths were luxuries in the Mojave. There was common rule among many people—if there was no running water and no natural water, you would go without bathing for days.

Valence was fond of being clean and had found great comfort in living next to Lake Mead. Even though she had to take a bit of a walk to get closer to the water she couldn't ever complain about being dirty.

She had a spot she liked very much—it was easily reached from the far end of camp, just follow the rocks along the edges of the cliff until they dipped into a weather-made staircase, trailing down, down to the lake. Go right and there would be the area the other legionaries bathed in. Go left and there was a small cave, and if you went through it you would end up on the other side of the lake, away from prying eyes.

This was the first place she had found to bathe in since arriving at the camp, and the only one she intended to visit. It was fairly well known that she was a woman, very few people wouldn't know. But nobody needed to _see_that it was true. Nobody but her. She took her time in getting undressed, leaving her towel on one of the dewed rocks of the cave mouth. She took the binding from her chest and rubbed the red flesh under her breasts, irritated from being kept under wraps for so long. She wasn't necessarily well endowed when it came to her chest but she was always a very cautious person.

She dove into the lake, ignoring the chill of the water. When she resurfaced, she swam over to the rock she had left her soap on and began the slow process of bathing. The moon reflected upon the surface of the lake. From where she stood now the water was a little bit over waist high. Eventually she would move back to where she had first been to swim around for a while, but it was more important to be clean for now.

Her day had been relatively simple, wonderful in fact, but it didn't take away from the stress of the situations she'd been in. She had been assigned her Decanii, ten of them, all recently promoted from veteran status like she herself had been. Among them was Laelius, who was to be her star warrior, Caesar had said, and he was placed in charge of a group of the most exceptional veterans, unlike the others who were tasked with watching over ordinary veterans, recruits and primes.

The Decanii weren't exactly jumping for joy at being assigned to have her as their Centurion. Most of them didn't mind, no, but a couple of them had spat their clearly misogynistic views at her after leaving Caesar's tent. She simply scowled at them; it was something that would be remedied with time, she decided. She would not be weak and she would not be a pushover. She intended to let her men know exactly who was calling the shots around here.

Laelius himself didn't seem to have an opinion on her gender, but he did seem a bit weary at being placed directly under her in rank. Understandable—he had been working at this goal for far longer than she had been, she assumed.

Caesar had left it up to her once more to find an appropriate bunkmate, and she had settled on keeping Vulpes around. The man had originally had a tent of his own, since he was head of the Frumentarii, but had been spending time with her, showing her the ropes and directing her in the proper path to becoming an invaluable asset to the Legion. She figured the least she could do for him was offer him a comfortable place to sleep again. Besides, he already knew where her tent was.

There was a loud splash to her right, near the deeper part of the water and she inhaled sharply, turning to face what could possibly be a threat. She had left her weapons back in the camp, but she was good with hand to hand combat and not above punching a lakelurk in the nose, if need be. But come to think of it, lakelurks didn't wander this close to the Fort…

She scowled, letting out an indignant huff. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at Vulpes, who had resurfaced and was swimming over to where she was. "You startled me. What are you doing here?"

Vulpes raised an eyebrow, holding up his own bar of soap. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Valence rolled her eyes, not moving. "But this is where _I_take a bath." It probably sounded childish, but there was a fear that more people would find her one day. She had become rather protective of this spot.

Vulpes didn't look too sorry. "This is where I've been bathing for 15 years now. You've come a bit too late to claim territory, Valence." He began washing himself in front of her, unabashedly, and she averted her eyes from the scene. She kept quiet and held her tight position, arms locked tight around her breasts, legs closed despite the fact that her lower body was under water and it was dark out. "What's wrong?"

She looked back up to his face quickly and tilted her head. "What? Nothing's wrong, why even ask?" Perhaps it was suspicious that she hadn't moved yet. She tried to loosen her position but only ended up locking herself away tighter.

Vulpes was not convinced. "It doesn't appear to be _nothing_," He narrowed his eyes at her. "What exactly are you _doing_?"

"What? I'm not doing anything. I don't understand." She was honest in that statement. She had no idea what he was talking about until he took her arms and forced them away from her body. She gasped, taking a step back.

"You're hiding yourself." And at that point she realized that he _knew_, because it was his job to pinpoint things like this. He laughed quietly, a small smirk spreading across his lips. "You don't have to be ashamed, you know."

Her lips pulled themselves into a tight line. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Vulpes didn't leave the matter alone; it was never in his nature to do that. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on hers, fixing her with a knowing smirk. "Do not think that I haven't noticed, courier," He only called her that when he meant business, and she swallowed hard. "It's in plain sight for me to see right now. You've become ashamed of your own body. I'd advise you to get over it—there's nothing that can be done."

Valence felt her shoulders slump, and she sighed. It was difficult not to give in when Vulpes had you pinned into a corner, literally or figuratively, and she simply lost care in fighting to hide the truth from him. When it came down to the bottom line, he would _always_ know the truth. "I just… the tactical advantages of this military—this _society_—don't have any room for me. Women who take care of the domestic necessities and men who deal in war and hunting; I'm a woman but I'm better suited for combat than anything else. So where am I left in this? I wish I could _change_."

It felt good to have her feelings off her chest, but the look on Vulpes' face told her that she'd be receiving a lecture on this. "Ignoring the fact that you could fit into both roles properly, do you think there have not been others like you? Men who were better healers, women with strong backs? And what happened to them? They were all eventually turned into slaves."

"This isn't making me feel any better about the situation, Vulpes."

He held up a hand for silence. She shut her mouth and listened. "But _I_ found you. I reported you to Caesar and he was fascinated with the idea of a woman so interested in his empire. I told him of your exploits and due to your own strength you were able to overcome a barrier that most assumed would have you killed. Wear your armor with pride—you're a Centurion now, and not many are in the position to question you."

She almost objected when she remembered the two Decanii from earlier, but she decided to keep that to herself. "I just feel strange, thinking of the differences."

Vulpes shrugged. "I see very few. Physically I can name a couple. But even putting that aside, all I can think of is the fact that you're much shapelier than I." He smiled at her, which was more disturbing than comforting, and she instinctively went to cover her chest again.

"Thanks _so_much for that…" She didn't complain when he smacked her arms down a second time.

"Mentally, however, I believe that we lie on the same page. It's been a very long time since I've met a woman worth conversing with."

Valence snorted, rolling her eyes. "And look at this; you aren't only speaking to me, you're _bunking_with me as well."

Vulpes raised an eyebrow. "Oh. That is to be me? I wasn't aware."

"Well who am I supposed to share a room with, one of my Decanii? I hardly know them."

He nodded. "I suppose you're right. In fact, I've taken the liberty of sleeping under a piece of fabric for you—I might as well reap the benefits of the actual tent I deserve."

Valence let out a dry laugh. "Yes. Exactly."

They were quiet, and Vulpes resumed cleaning himself. Valence was just beginning to work up the nerve to do so as well when he spoke. "You only do this because you believe that I'm the only one who doesn't care that you're a woman. You do realize that many people around the camp have come to accept your presence, correct? Especially after that stunt you pulled with the _cookies_…" The last part was muttered more to himself, but she heard him anyway.

"I think it may have started like that; staying around you, I mean," She began washing her arms, the chorded muscles tensing under flesh as the bar of soap came into contact with her skin. "But also because it was a learning experience that you offered to me. You were and still are my mentor in all of this. You are the one who told me of the Legion after I woke up without a clue of who I was. I wanted to take something from knowing you, something good, something I could use to _become_someone here. But after a while it became more than that, and I started to like you very much."

Vulpes gazed at her with cool eyes. "How touching." The statement was said with blatant sarcasm, but he didn't stop her.

"I… enjoy your presence, Vulpes. It's appreciated." It was the closest she could bring herself to outright saying that she thought of him as a good friend. Vulpes seemed to understand this, and he rolled his eyes, throwing his soap onto the rocks of the cave.

"As I enjoy yours, Valence. Frequently remind yourself that you are fortunate enough to have piqued my interest and fallen into my good graces. I do not like many, but I've taken to you." And without another word he dove to the right, into the deeper side of the lake.

As she finished soaping herself up she watched him swim in the moonlit water. As odd as it was to think of it, she had been lucky that it was Vulpes who found her that day in Nipton. She would never know why he had decided to groom her into an instrument of the Legion; his motivation for all of his actions would forever remain locked tightly away in his own mind. For the time being she was content to believe that he had seen something in her, potential, even though she was a woman.

She sighed, frowning, and placing her soap in a small niche in the rocks, she swam off to join him.

When she neared him he surfaced, shaking off the water from his hair. He wasn't one to be stared at for long so eventually he asked her what her problem was.

"You… you'll still call me Valence, right? Even though I'm Faustus now?" It was a strange question, which was probably why he took so long to reply. She felt her skin grow hot with embarrassment, and was thankful that the water was so cool and the sun wasn't out to expose her.

"I don't see why I shouldn't if that's what you wish. Although it would only be in private—it wouldn't do well for anyone else to hear me address you so informally now that you have a proper title."

"Of course not." She nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly.

They swam there for a while longer, silent, not looking at each other, but out onto the surface of the water, the stars barely seeping into its reflective surface, and the mirror image of a large, full moon painted on the deep side of the lake.


	4. Bedside Manner

Troop Morale IV—Bedside Manner

Valence read the thermometer, her eyes narrowing. She folded her legs in her seat in front of Caesar. "You're running a fever. Do you have a headache?" Her trademark frown adorned her face like a mask.

Caesar himself didn't look pleased either, his cheek in his chin, reminding Valence of a child who didn't get his way. "Yes. But it isn't as bad as before." The answer pleased her. She had been called in here by Lucius, who had noticed there was something wrong with their leader. The man was an excellent bodyguard, she thought, and had caught the beginning of something that could have been bad if left unnoticed.

"You have Mojave Flu—fever, headaches, fatigue, but no cough or sore throat or runny nose. DefinitelyMojave Flu. You need to get to bed; drink lots of water but keep under covers, keep yourself awake for a bit longer before going to sleep. And absolutely _no_ contact with anything that could be irradiated. Mojave Flu makes you very susceptible to radiation poisoning." She listed off instructions, keeping count on her fingers. "Also, you might want to leave Lucius in charge for at least today. You're overworking yourself."

Caesar snorted. "_You_ try commanding an entire Legion."

Valence raised an eyebrow. "No thank you, my lord. I'll leave that job in more capable hands. But for now, please go to bed, but stay awake for at least another two hours. Read a book or something." She suggested, placing the thermometer back into her doctors bag. She stood up and so did he, turning to head to his bed.

"There isn't a single book in this camp that I haven't read twice…" He grumbled.

He was probably only talking to himself, but Valence heard him clear as day. She bit her bottom lip, the gears in her head turning faster than ever. "I'll be back later." She said quickly, before exiting the tent.

Caesar watched her go, not even three steps away by the time she was gone. "She's up to something." Lucius pointed out helpfully. Caesar shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not going to complain if she disappears for two hours and comes back with more cookies. In fact, I might have to give her another promotion…"

Vulpes was just about to leave when she came running in.

There was no greeting, no acknowledgement that he was even there. While he could tolerate the perpetrator he couldn't ignore the action. He took the pillow from her bed and chucked it hard at her head. It connected—and it probably hurt more than he'd thought it would, because Valence cursed, turned around from where she was digging through the piles of odds and ends she kept stashed in her corner of the tent and gave him an appropriate scowl.

"_What_?" She bit out, throwing the pillow back at him. He caught it and placed it in its original position.

"You're in an excellent mood today, Valence." He answered curtly, hefting the travel pack on the floor onto his back. She seemed to calm down slightly, and she frowned deeper.

"Sorry. I'm feeling rushed. Lord Caesar has Mojave Flu, and I need to bring him books so that he has something to do whilst incapacitated. He has read every book in the camp twice, he says—all but mine. I have classics, originals, stuff that nobody ever thinks to keep around here because they aren't in Latin." She sifted through the large stacks of books.

Vulpes smirked. "He never asked you for any books, did he?" When he didn't receive an answer he knew it.

Valence was about to get herself into something again.

There wasn't really anything that could be done to stop her. "Try not to cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere important." So apparently it was official Frumentarii business and not up for conversation.

Valence nodded her understanding, starting to set certain books aside. They were all good titles, not all of them books for older readers but still good none the less. She never judged books as harshly as she judged holotapes, partly because there was something to be said about portraying an idea strictly on paper with words.

"Lord Caesar probably expects that you'll bring him more cookies." Vulpes said, and the gears in Valence's head started turning once more.

"Yes. I should bring him something to eat. It would do well to give him carbohydrates, even if they're only simple sugars…" He had to give the woman credit—she managed to find a way to combine her civic duties with her medical abilities and knowledge of baked goods. An interesting skill set; certainly not one that anyone in the camp could ever really complain about.

"You enjoy that. I'm going to take care of my business. Vale."

"Alright. Travel safe. Vale." Vulpes left without another word.

Their new tent had been a godsend for her. Aside from the corner of collected items she had, there was room to cook in the middle. Being out on the road by herself for so long without access to food or medicine or even campfires had given her a new opinion of hot plates. They looked rather useless to her at the start of her journey, but soon enough they became necessary for heating water, combining chemicals, even cooking.

Yeast, flour, brahmin milk, deathclaw egg, sugar. That was a strict recipe she followed when making sweetrolls, and she mixed the ingredients together in a small bowl while the four hotplates she owned heated up. It wasn't difficult to bake on these things, it only required some creativity. If the heat didn't distribute itself anywhere but the bottom of the batter it would turn into a pancake, and that wasn't what she wanted. She put a large glob onto each plate, and proceeded to cover them with wide-rimmed beakers that she usually used for heating water. With the hot air trapped around them, they would be forced to cook properly.

She frowned at the fact that she had neither the time nor utilities to make a dozen sweetrolls for Caesar, especially while he was sick, but at least this was something. She went back to picking out books. She was sure that he'd be able to appreciate all of her selections. They were her personal favorites. She never turned her eyes away from a good book. She'd share these with Caesar and maybe on future excursions she'd be able to bring him back even more.

Thirty minutes passed by quickly as she skimmed through her selections. The tent was filled with the scent of the nearly done sweetrolls. She regretted not being able to have any of them, but there was a greater good to be serviced. She found one of her stray gloves in the pile of her things and used it to lift one of glasses.

They were finished. It was time.

She watched as Caesar took a bite out of a sweetroll. He nodded, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"These are great." He said, swallowing the bite of pastry. He smirked at her. "Believe me when I say that you would make a more than exceptional woman."

"No."

"What's all that for anyway?" He kept eating, but pointed at the books she cradled in her arms. She nodded, and put all but one of them on the floor next to her feet. She opened it and was about to speak but he was able to put the pieces together to object.

"Wait. Faustus, you aren't reading me fucking bedtime stories, are you? 'Cause I'm more than half your age."

She looked up from the pages to give him a frown. "And I am your doctor, or did you not appoint me to that position? I intend on doing my job well; besides, it's not a bedtime story, merely a reading of a book you haven't read yet, I'm sure."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"I assure you that I only deal in medicine, not jokes." She opened the book and began to read aloud from it. "The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold, cold wet day—"

"Is this a fucking _picture book_?" Caesar's eyes widened and the sweetroll he was eating fell from his hand to the plate it had come from.

Valence peered up from her reading while she turned the page. "Yes, it is. Do not let its childish nature fool you. The author writes an engaging tale."

"_Faustus_ there's a picture of a fucking _cat_ on the cover."

"Yes, I am aware of this."

"The cat is wearing a fucking _bowtie_."

Valence decided to ignore his complaints. The doctor knew best. "I sat there with Sally. We sat there, we two. And I said, 'How I wish we had something to do!'"

"Faustus this is fucking _stupid_—"

"Too wet to go out and too cold to play ball. So we sat in the house. We did nothing at all." Caesar didn't interrupt her, instead opting to angrily take a chunk out of one of the sweetrolls. "So all we could do was to sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! And we did not like it. Not one little bit. And then something went _bump_! How that bump made us jump!"

"Can you at least stop reading it in monotone? It's fucking weird…" She tried not to let her delighted sneer show over the pages of the book. He was getting used to it. She decided to at least listen to his request. Saying it with feeling shouldn't be too hard, with the way the words could capture her so simply.

"We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat! We looked! And we saw him! The Cat in the Hat! And he said to us, 'Why do you sit there like that?'—"

"Wait, wait. Let me see these _pictures_." He said the last word as if it was dirty, and Valence obliged, showing him the image of a cartoon cat (bowtied and top hatted) strolling into the home of two surprised cartoon children. The man snorted. "Cats can't do anything like that."

"You take the story too seriously, my lord."

"Just keep reading the damn thing!"

"But the Yeps on the steps—they're great fun to have around. And so are many, many other friends that I have found…" Valence turned the page and took a deep breath. This was her favorite part of the book.

"Like the Tellar and Nellar and the Gellar and the Dellar and the Bellar and the Wellar and the Zellar in the cellar." She turned the page to show the picture.

Caesar snorted. "And of course they're lounging about like a bunch of lazy profligates. Who would have guessed?" He waved his hand, signaling for her to continue.

"…And the Geeling on the ceiling… and the Zower in my shower…"

"That's so invasive of him. Had that been my home I would have skinned that stupid Zower alive."

"And the Zillow on my pillow. I don't care if you believe it. That's the kind of house I live in. And I hope we never leave it. The end." She showed off the final picture. _There's a Wocket in my Pocket_ had always been one of her favorites.

Somewhere down the line, her reluctant leader had finally accepted these books, requesting the ones he thought would be interesting. _The Cat in the Hat Comes Back_, _Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now_, _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish_ and so many more—it didn't matter what book it was. He enjoyed it. She complemented herself on a job well done, but now there was nothing left to read. She frowned. She was enjoying reading aloud.

"Well, I suppose that's it then. If you'd like you can get some sleep now. I just needed to see if you'd have trouble staying awake to know if your condition was worse than I though. It hasn't developed into pneumonia—if it had you would have found it difficult to stay conscious." Valence stacked the books slowly and lifted them up to sit on her lap. Caesar was staring at her, a strange look in his eyes. "Yes?"

He didn't reply immediately, merely looked at her until she felt herself growing restless with anticipation. Finally, after what seemed to be some long consideration on his part, he spoke.

"Are you sure there isn't a woman under that armor?"

Valence could only raise an eyebrow in reply. She looked to the side to consider the question for a moment.

_I do not like many, but I've taken to you._

Vulpes' words rang in her ears, and she managed to curl her lips up into a sneer, a crude attempt at a smile.

"No. I'm not."

She left the tent without another word.


End file.
